


Statistics

by SquirrelandBlackbird



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-07 01:30:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8777701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SquirrelandBlackbird/pseuds/SquirrelandBlackbird
Summary: A pandemic is spreading throughout the Districts. President Snow has not lowered the quotas nor sent aid, except to District 11. Prim and Mrs. Everdeen aid the sick.





	

“There is a problem,” Antonius said. 

President Snow looked up from his lunch. There was always a problem in the districts. He waited.

Antonius said, “Reports are coming in about a pandemic. At least three districts have been hit hard.”

Snow wiped his mouth, and put the white napkin down beside his plate. “Do we have enough vaccine for the capital?”

“Yes, but that’s not the problem.”

“Then please tell me what the problem is.”

“District 12’s production has dropped. They won’t make their quota. In fact several districts are reporting high numbers of illness. It’s a matter of time before their quotas drop as well. There are not enough workers. And vaccine supplies are running low.” Antonius handed President Snow the numbers.

Snow raised his right index finger toward his mouth. “You’re telling me districts are not making their quotas because of an illness.”

Antonius nodded. 

Snow looked up at the ceiling. Revolt was one thing, but illness?

It was the one thing he could not control. Keeping the districts separate, and in a state of distrust, a plan began to form in his mind. 

“Have a shipment of vaccine sent to District 11. I want full coverage. Let the people of the Capital know we care for our own.”

“And the other districts?”

“The Capital cannot function if the quotas are not met. Illness is not an excuse. Make examples.”

  


Prim dabbed the miner’s head with a damp cloth. His eyes were glassy and he was burning up. She looked over at her mother who was grinding some herbs. Fear bit at her insides. Her sister, Katniss, had survived the 74th Hunger Games.

She looked around the room. Sick people filled every room. Their house had become a hospital. She didn’t mind this one bit because they had canceled school due to the sickness. And her mom came alive as she flitted from one patient to the next, administering a hot broth. It eased their suffering. She knew it wouldn’t cure them, though.

Her mom had sent word to the Mayor, asking for aid from the Capital. Gale volunteered to deliver the message with two other miners, but had not returned.

There was talk of the mine shutting down during the illness. They were already at half strength, but there were rumors the Capital might cut their quota. If not, many families would suffer. The Capital could withhold salaries if the quotas were not met.

This was not good news. But at the moment the sick people all around her outweighed the Capital's response.

The front door burst open, and Gale stormed inside. “They won’t send help,” he said, gritting his teeth. “It’s on the news that District 11 is receiving aid because they made quota.” 

Mrs. Everdeen asked, “What do you mean they won’t send help? Nothing?”

Gale shook his head. “We’re on our own, and we still need to make quota.”

“You’re joking,” Mrs. Everdeen said. “Didn’t the Mayor tell the Capital seven people have died already?”

“He sent the message,” Gale said. 

Mrs. Everdeen turned slowly around, examining all the faces. Prim gripped the chair arms. She wondered what they were going to do.

“These men are not fit to work,” Mrs. Everdeen said to herself. “And their families. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“I have to go,” Gale said. “We have to make quota. Is Katniss back?”

Mrs. Everdeen moved to a woman lying on the floor next to the window. Sunlight shown down, and warmed her. 

Prim said, “Not yet. Mom sent her to find more herbs. We’re running low.”

Gale nodded, turned, and left. 

Prim picked up another damp cloth from the bucket and wrung it out. She placed it on another burning brow. 

Why would the Capital not send aid? It made no sense. Nothing made sense. One moment she heard her name called, and it was like the world had suddenly stopped. And before she could even move, she heard Katniss’s voice. 

Katniss had volunteered on her behalf. It was humbling to say the least. She knew if she had entered the arena she would have been killed like Rue. Late at night, when she was alone with Buttercup, tears would fall down her cheeks. She saw how Katniss mourned Rue’s death. She wondered she would look pretty in death like Rue. 

These were silly thoughts, but they came nonetheless. A shadow fell over her reaping. Katniss went in her stead, but she felt as though the selection had not been fully fulfilled. She couldn’t explain it, though, because it hovered there next to waking and sleeping. 

It gnawed at her consciousness like she was trying to remember something she forgot. It was like everyone looked at her differently. Only Katniss seemed unfazed by it. 

Prim threw herself into her work. Still, she should have been in the arena for the 74th Hunger Games. 

She never mentioned this to Katniss. Her sister had suffered terribly following the games. She heard the late night screams, and Katniss’s dour moods had increased. This did not take away her love for her big sister in the least. She loved her more than ever. How could you repay your sister when she volunteered in her place?

The bucket was empty. Prim gathered it up, and went to the kitchen. She had ripped up four bedsheets for cloths. 

Katniss appeared at the kitchen window. 

Prim told her about what Gale found out. 

Katniss asked, handing the basket of herbs through the window, “They won’t send help?”

Prim shook her head. “District 11 is getting aid. They won’t send us aid until the mine workers make quota.”

“Make quota? But that’s impossible.”

“Gale went back to the mine. They have to make quota.”

“Does Haymitch know?”

“I haven’t seen him. But I’m guessing he does.”

Katniss storms off toward Haymitch’s house. 

Prim takes the basket and sets in on the counter where her mom prepares medicines. Inside are feverwort, elderberry, echinacea, and ginger. She catches her mother’s eye and waves her over. 

Mrs. Everdeen looks down at the plants, and her face lights up. 

“Katniss just got back,” Prim said. “And look, she found ginger.”

“Bless her,” Mrs. Everdeen said, picking it up and turning it around in her hands. “How did she find it?”

“She didn’t say. I told her about Gale’s news, and she stormed off to Haymitch’s.”

“Well, we won’t worry about that. Start grating the ginger.”

Prim takes the oddly shaped roots and begins to grate them. A fine pungent smell tickles her nose. She wonders how many medicinal plants are actually in the arena. Or do they just stock the arena with the genetically modified plants that harm the tributes? 

And who comes up with the arena ideas? She mentioned it to Katniss once, and learned never to do that again. But she couldn’t help her curiosity. Maybe that’s why she liked medicine. She wasn’t helpless. Even at twelve, she felt a sense of maturity in caring for grown men. She still had to face six more readings, and each year her chances increased. But Gale had survived the reaping. Still, she had already chosen on her first reaping.

She redoubled her efforts grating the ginger to push away that feeling again. It was just her body changing, that’s all. 

The door opened, and Prim saw a miner standing there. Coal soot covered his face. He looked exhausted. He said, “Could someone help us? Gale’s been hurt.”  


End file.
